When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty; for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life, society had never had any positive knowledge of it. She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her, loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy. But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even disposition. All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold, she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind had found its way from her to him.